


Everything That Is Broken

by falindis



Series: Into This Wild Abyss [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Ainu Song Magic, Corruption, Death and Resurrection, M/M, Melkor is a bad teacher, Mock creation, On the birth of dragons, Phoenix metaphors, Utumno, angbang, mild animal cruelty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:19:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24368731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falindis/pseuds/falindis
Summary: “Even things most flawed may serve a purpose. They simply must be fixed first.”After moving to Utumno, Mairon learns that Melkor is a harsh teacher. Mairon, however, puts his new skills quickly to use. Sometimes for a seed to flourish, it must first be kissed by flame.
Relationships: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon
Series: Into This Wild Abyss [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742446
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	Everything That Is Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Two quotes that inspited this work:
> 
> “And in Utumno Melkor gathered his demons about him, those spirits who first adhered to him in the days of his splendour, and became most like him in his corruption.” - Silmarillion
> 
> “You don’t get to die and be reborn the same.  
> You come back, but you come back wrong.  
> This is the price you pay for resurrection.” - Nathaniel Orion G.K. (nathanielorion.tumblr.com)

There was a cruel sort of beauty to the peaks around Utumno.

Their jagged shapes loomed constantly on the horizon: imposing, terrible and unwelcoming. Yet everywhere Mairon looked, something wonderful would catch his eye. First it was the ever-churning fire of the volcanic peaks, dyeing the night-sky red with its ominous glow. Secondly it was the ice, glossing the summits and the shadowy valleys around them, such power stored under its immense weight. Thirdly it was the colors. The landscape was patterned with hazardously hot streams, painting the ground in endless shades of red, yellow and green. The weather was an ever-changing mosaic of light, shadow and smoke; mist, fire and snow.

It was gorgeous and terrible, and Mairon loved it.

After swearing fealty to the dark Vala, he had returned to Almaren only shortly. He informed his new master of the workings of the Valar, acting as his eyes and ears in a place that he could not come to himself. But soon the discord within his soul became too great, and he had to detach from it entirely, leaving his old home to never return.

Now, unseparated by law or taboo nor distance, they were finally free. Those days Mairon rarely left Melkor’s side, constantly eager to learn more from his new master. Their nights were filled with heated passion, ways of pleasure that Mairon could only have dreamed of. Their days, however, were quite ordinary: Mairon working at his new forge, Melkor ordering his troops. He had managed to gather quite the following, and Mairon was not the only Maia he had drawn to his side.

But it was solely Mairon that had access to the insides of Melkor’s head, to the darkest depths of his fears and desires. Thus, out of all his servants, Mairon would become the most like him.

“Look, master!” Mairon called out, pointing towards a crack in the rock. They were outside, on a tall cliffside that overlooked the western part of Utumno. The reddish, volcanic glow was suddenly reflected off a moving surface – a tiny, living creature scuttering its way in between the rocks. A closer look revealed it to be some kind of lizard, covered in shiny, brown scales with red undertones. “It’s beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” Melkor grunted. “This creature?”

Suddenly Melkor’s hand darted out, almost too fast for Mairon to observe. He grabbed the lizard in a vice-like grip, squeezing it between his fingers. A cold light flared in his eyes, and ice bloomed beneath his fingertips.

“No. Worthless.”

The lizard was dead. Its soft brown eyes stared unmoving at Mairon, questioning him, blaming him.

“Why?” Mairon asked, whispering. It was a shame losing such a beautiful creature. Wasteful.

“Every living thing is proof of the power of the Valar. As long as they persist, so does their power. It has to be snuffed out.”

“So… you want everything to die?”

Melkor chuckled. “No, my spark. I simply want to make it _better._ Observe.”

Melkor closed his eyes, and from his tongue, escaped a Note. It captivated Mairon in its sublimity, making the very earth shudder beneath his feet. In just that one Note Melkor spun an entire song, a symphony of destruction and creation. There was something _twisted_ in it, like one key that was out of tune, but that simple chaos only made it more alluring.

And together with that song, the lizard came back to life.

It opened its mouth in a great yawn, its teeth too sharp and numerous for such a small creature. It clawed at Melkor with razor-like talons, the spikes on its back puffing. Even the color looked different than before: darker, almost matt-like, no longer shining.

“It is beautiful now”, Melkor said. He lowered it back on the rock, and the lizard scuttled away, waving its long tail behind him.

“Even things most flawed may serve a purpose. They simply must be fixed first.”

Mairon often returned to those words. He agreed with them. They were spoken in a language that he, too, could understand. There were many things that he and his master did not fully agree on, but those words Mairon could swear to. They became his solemn oath.

“So beautiful”, Mairon crooned, alone in his forge during the late, long hours. He held a tiny lizard in between his fingers, one alike to the one Melkor had transformed. Its brownish red scales flickered copper in the firelight, constantly reflecting the world around them. Something in it reminded Mairon of himself. “So flawed.”

The lizard struggled and writhed in between his fingers, trying to escape the hotness of his hands. Mairon was visibly radiating heat now, his veins glowing underneath his skin like molten gold. Mairon closed his eyes and let out a calming hush, fully enclosing his hands around the creature. The smell of burning flesh filled the room. The creature no longer moved.

A single tear ran down Mairon’s face. His voice trembled, as he Sung a Song of Creation, a song of Mending. And slowly, tiredly, the creature between his fingers moved again.

Mairon opened his hands. The sharp barbs of the creature’s back had scratched a bloody line across his fingertips, and its skin felt hot to the touch. When it breathed, tiny puffs of smoke escaped beneath its nostrils, and a yellow glow emanated from underneath its belly.

“Everything that is broken can be mended”, Mairon said.

The creature’s cat-like eyes reflected Mairon’s own, as its mouth opened in a toothy snarl.

It was perfect.


End file.
